Smoke and Mirrors
by Devilina07
Summary: Smoke and Mirrors is a journal written by the Persian in Leroux's book. It's setting first begins in in Persia but will follow the Daroga until he gets to Paris. I have done my best as far as research goes. Comments and Suggestions are welcome.
1. Journal Entry 1

Disclaimer: I do not own _The Phantom of the Opera_, characters, places, etc. All rights belong to Gaston Leroux and their respected owners.

Blood bleeds.

However, in my short time on this planet I have learned that not all spilt blood signals the snuffing out of a life.

Indeed, my experiences have taught me that blood has many connotations, not all tinged with fear and death. Blood gives us the ability to live, to survive, to function and to create. The blood that spills from a woman during her fertile years signals the ability of a female to create. Blood and primordial ooze which a baby is born from is the sign of a life come unto this earth.

However, as I wax poetic about the life-force that resides within all of us, I have seen my fair share of blood spilled in the name of championing one's cause. I have seen blood shed for reasons no more noble than for the demented entertainment of a sick mind. I, myself, have dispatched many a life for the sake of someone's whim. My experience with life and all of its beauty has been tainted with the gross need to maintain the upperhand in all situations that may involve my continued health.

My morbid curiosity with the sticky, pungent liquid began as a child. As a young boy, I often found the carcasses of dead animals along the paths that I walked. The limp bodies of the animals drew my attention in ways I cannot explain. Did the blood that courses the bodies of amphibians look the same as that of my own? Are the innards of cats as vital to their existence as they were to my compatriots? As the years passed, I satiated my curiosity by merely studying nature and documenting all that I could for the advancement of my intellect and for my own scientific purposes. When I reached adulthood my observations as well as my keen eye to detail did much to advance my career.

For you see, I have led the life that most people only read about in fiction. Some may scoff at the tales I have told to a select few, but everything that I write here in this journal is fact and has been experienced by me. For better or worse, I inscribe everything which I have lived through in this notebook, not as a release of my soul. I care not whether I rise to Heaven or am dispatched to the fiery pits of Hell, but I feel the need to purge myself of the incidences that have defined my life until now. This manuscript of my life is meant for no one's eyes and yet at the same time, it is meant for everyone. I do not foresee the need in the future for anyone other than myself to read these words. I only write to make plain in my mind my varied and colorful history.

A person such as myself is not ushered to the front of the Heaven's gates. Many a time I have felt Death's claws take grip of me. Unlike many, I have stared into the face of Death and I have conversed with him. My sanity has teetered precariously between this world and the next. Death has a name, and Death's name was Erik. I no longer wish for my life to be clouded within smoke and mirrors, and in an effort to wipe away confusion I elucidate this experience within these pages.


	2. Journal Entry 2

**Journal Entry 2**

My life before I met Erik merits little mention.

I was born of a fairly wealthy family that afforded me the ability to attain a rather high level of education. My place in society was furthered by my father's contacts with high ranking government officials.

At quite an early age my father succumbed to an illness in the chest that went undetected until the final stages of his life. As the eldest of my siblings, I was sent to reside with my uncle, a general within my country's army. Much was expected from my uncle's brilliant nephew. Not only was I expected to excel in my studies, but I was to be at the top of my ranking in all things in which I was involved. As I approached my adult years, I was granted a place within the ranks of the Persian police force and steadily made my way to the level of Daroga. It was at this point in my life that changes would come at such a rapid intensity that these years spent under the Shah and his court are no more than a blur.

My first meeting of the specter that I came to know as Erik was accomplished quite surreptitiously. I was sent to trail the man and bring back all news of his movements, habits, and addictions. Early on I became aware that Erik was quite obvious to the game of cat and mouse in which we played. Not for one moment did I not think that Erik was not aware of my presence. The man was too cunning not to realize that he was being watched. It is for this reason that I believe that he allowed me to follow him. Erik could stand out in a crowd if he allowed himself to. While his choice of attire was not ostentatious, his height, among other things, drew a great deal of attention. As I now look back upon that time long ago, I believe Erik was making furtive attempts to reach out to someone even if he did distrust all those around him.

By staring at Erik, one would wonder how such a form as himself could go unnoticed in a land of my mocha skinned brethren. Erik, if he allowed himself to be looked upon for more than a few fleeting moments, had a pigmentation, or lack thereof, that could not be matched. His mere countenance and his stoic nature would cause bumps of the skin to form even under the hottest of suns. For you see, Erik never made a public appearance without his full facial mask. His mask seemed to fit the contours of his face, but the mask itself was devoid of any expression. It held the qualities of a funeral mask. This only served to further his morbid physique and horror. During his time under the service of the Shah, whispered comments were made about his appearance. It was often said that Erik was one of the Devil's rejects. Many a time I thought the same thing.

Erik was still quite young during these years. He had not yet developed into the silent, deadly stalker that he would become in his later life. This is not to say that Erik was clumsy, not by any means. I believe Erik was born with the uncanny ability to disappear and reappear at any moment like some of the most skilled magicians in this world.

While this type of movement, which I compared to the silent motion of a person's shadow, made him a quick favorite of the Shah, it was also his undoing. Erik not only moved like a cat, but he a feline's sight and keen sense of hearing, which helped him to decipher some of the kingdom's most well kept secrets. Erik quickly became an object of interest and of suspicion.

It was at this point in Erik's brief servitude to the Shah that I was instructed to become "friendly" with our guest from the lands beyond our borders.


	3. Journal Entry 3

**Journal Entry 3**

As all subjects of the royal kingdom, I obeyed the Shah and dutifully took up my new position. After a few months of trailing my new acquaintance, I believed myself ready to move forward in our ambivalent relationship towards one another. How little I knew then of the collision course I had set myself upon.

All of my contact with Erik up until this point had been free of conversation. We regarded each other with the curious silence that two foes extend to each other when passing on the street. I had heard the court gossip regarding Erik's voice. Of this I was not oblivious.

When I finally allowed myself to abandon my position of investigator and approach Erik, I was not prepared for the voice which greeted me. To say that he had a beautiful voice is too much of an understatement. When Erik spoke, what emanated from his lips was something mellifluous and instantly mesmerizing. At first I wanted to find out what sort of marvel had caused such a thing to be produced from his mouth. To my astonishment, Erik played no tricks at the moment and was clearly using his speaking voice when he addressed me. Despite his appearances, Erik had the voice of the Devine.

At once I was taken aback by his commanding stature as well as posture. During the previous months of following my charge, I had not had the opportunity to come within a close proximity for fear of being discovered outright. His mask only added to the uneasiness with which I regarded him. He seemed to be no more scared of me than of a common flea.

Even without making formal introductions, Erik knew my name and my position held within the court. Nothing had eluded him. Apparently he had been learning as much as he could about me as I had been gathering about him.

Our first encounter was brief, but it allowed us to size one another. I quickly realized Erik's mind games were meant to probe my mental stability and my analytical and logical reasoning skills. I used this time to do the same and to make a mental profile of my subject. Days and weeks were spent in this precarious state, trying to cleverly outdo one another while maintaining the upper hand. We soon found that we were both forces to be reckoned with. I made every effort to not abase myself to Erik or appear unsure. To do so would have been my folly.

An uneasy alliance was made between the two of us. I never let my guard slip while in his presence, and neither did he. We held each other in high regard, never deluding ourselves as to what was expected from each other personally and professionally.


	4. Journal Entry 4

_The health portions which follow came from ideas that I gathered from my friend Khanum of Persia on A big thank you to her for providing the following details on porphyria. They helped tremendously._

**Journal Entry 4**

Perhaps what finally made me appreciate Erik as a man and semi-acquaintance was his intellect and his straightforwardness when addressing me. Although young, Erik had already developed an esoteric demeanor that would only grow more sepulchral with age.

Unwritten boundaries told us what we could discuss and what was forbidden. I never questioned Erik about the seeming discomfort he had about his visage. Nor did I ever ask him to lift his mask. After witnessing countless accidents and brutal slayings, I knew well of the mishaps that could befall a human being. Perhaps what shocked me most was Erik agreeing to recount a brief portion of his personal life. I suppose he knew I was curious, but not rude enough to bring up the topic on my own and for this he held me in higher regard than most.

He broached the subject by first asking me about my professional career and all that I had seen in my line of work. I answered truthfully that I had witnessed many a horrendous act committed by one person upon another. I went so far as to speak plainly about the Shah and the Little Sultana and the despots they had become. My confession of my true feelings about the Shah did not seem to shock Erik; what took me aback was how freely I spoke the truth while in his presence, all, I am sure, within earshot of the Shah's spies. I was under no illusion that I too was being carefully observed as I had watched Erik. My movements were reported to the Shah and what little conversation could be gleaned was included in these briefings. I knew well the method in which all findings were to be presented for his perusal.

After mulling over my comments, Erik launched into an extraordinary tale for such a young man. If the person sitting across from me had been someone other than Erik, I surely would have dismissed his stories as flights of fancy, but the raw emotion which seethed from Erik assured me that he was telling the truth.

To my complete surprise, Erik said he had been born with his facial affliction. In the time I had known him, both from afar and from personal interactions with the man, it had not occurred to me that whatever abnormality was contained on his face came from birth. I naturally had assumed that the paleness of his skin was something apart from his face or perhaps that he was sensitive to the sun. In a sense, this was true.

Erik began his saga in a low voice, recounting his birth, as told to him by his parents. Though he was born to two normal, healthy parents, Erik's mother faced a difficult pregnancy term. She was bedridden for most of her time, and Erik came into the world a full month and half premature. Indications that the child was not well came early. The birth fluids that spilled from Erik's mother, as well as the sack that held the fetus within the womb, were yellow in tint. The child retained the same coloring but was born lethargic with a body temperature well below normal.

As the body of the newborn refused to warm, Erik's mother placed the baby in a bassinet near a sunny window. Because of this action, Erik's body and life would never be the same. The direct contact with the sunlight caused a rash of blisters to form over the entire body over the period of only a few short hours. The sight of the now ulcerated body of her infant son served to throw Erik's mother into an agitated stupor.

It was at this point when I realized why Erik was so far removed from the outside world. He need not tell me the trials and tribulations that he had encountered throughout his life. I knew of the treatment the lepers had experienced and Erik seemed no different. I never asked to see Erik's face; that would come in its own time and at his leisure.

To signal that he still held my attention, I nodded for Erik to go on. He explained that while sickly-looking since the day of his birth, his body resisted giving up the fight of its short life. Erik's parents had assumed that the yellow corpse held in the bassinet would expire soon after its first few hours outside the womb. A Catholic priest was called in to bless the child should its life slip away before receiving the sacraments of both life and death.

Erik was to have taken the name of his father; however his parents were leery of using the name for fear of superstition. Instead the name came from the young boy who was sent to fetch Erik's baptismal priest.

Months passed after Erik's birth and yet still no connection was made between his illness and the effects of the sun on his diminutive body. The ulcerated blisters grew in number and attacked the still soft tissue of his face. What should have been a cranium of a small child was now a severely misshapen skull of a monstrous toddler.

It was apparent from Erik's story that as the years passed and as Erik became more curious about his surroundings, his mother became more and more suspicious of the young boy. She became increasingly religious as time wore on, and the home was inundated with religious artifacts. Erik's final days in his parents' household were marked by Erik's mother calling for an exorcism of her only son. Hoping to calm her fears and to also quell the uncontrollable spirit he saw residing within his son's soul, Erik's father acquiesced to her wishes. Erik, on the other hand, having already developed a nihilistic view of the world decided to flee rather than be subjected to a pious mother's ravings, and a father who refused to see Erik's genius.


	5. Journal Entry 5

**Journal Entry 5**

Being quick of mind and physically strong, Erik traveled the length of Europe, which gave him the worldly attitude I sensed when first seeing him. Among his other talents, he knew a variety of languages that assisted him in his travels. Erik was cunning and made his varied livelihood by performing tricks, deceiving, and stealing. Having been educated from an early age, Erik set out in the world to learn as much as he could. He was determined to never be played the fool.

Try as hard as he might, Erik could not escape the stigma which his face brought to the masses. He explained to me that all of his movements were limited to nighttime excursions to avoid the constant stares he received. Erik's death-like pallor was too aberrant to be accepted within normal society. Travel by moonlight, as well as donning heavy, dark clothing, seemed to improve his condition. Erik stated that the unpleasant reactions he received did not faze him, however I could plainly see that this was not the case. I sensed the bitterness in Erik's voice as he methodically retraced the steps his life had taken.

Through his many travels as a young lad, he became uncomfortably aware of religion and its unrealistic boundaries and expectations. The hypocrisy in religious beliefs only served to further Erik from any belief in a higher power or the ability of any creator to create good in humans. To Erik, humans were inherently deceitful beings with ulterior motives. Erik put his trust in no one.

According to Erik, the tenets Christianity stated that God was good and kind, and that Christians cherish life and the differences between individuals. Unfortunately the God's followers who Erik encountered did not follow the same teachings. Wherever Erik stepped foot, he was met with great scorn and hostility. And instead of meeting tolerance and understanding, he was faced with a bevy of so-called Christian individuals who could not look past his exterior. Wishing to rid himself of their obtuse mind set, Erik once more trekked across Europe to the lands of my forebears.

As Erik continued on with his story, I began to wonder why Erik thought he would escape the damning stares he was sure to receive the rest of his life. Whether Christian, Muslim, or Jew, Erik's face was such that it would elicit reactions of horror no matter where he traveled. Religion was not the reason for his shunning. Even though I had grown slightly accustomed to his countenance, his presence always kept me on edge, and a wave of unease tinged my every meeting with him. Any sort of kindness had long fled Erik's eyes, and the gaze that met mine was nothing more than a dead, glowing stare. Sympathy and empathy were no longer words that could be used to describe the man before me. Those characteristics no longer existed in Erik. In addition to having the stealthy motions of a cat, Erik's eyes shown the color of lit amber.

It was during these particular travels to my lands that he honed his skills as a master of all trades. Erik had a mind that encompassed a world of information. I found that not only was he a master ventriloquist but also an architect. His use of illusion was known far and wide despite the fact that at the time he had not passed the age of thirty. It was with this notoriety and not his voice that he had been called to join the Shah's court. Through his use of illusion and his knowledge of architecture, Erik became known as the Trap-Door Lover. Erik's ability to appear suddenly through indiscernible doors made him all the more dangerous to the Shah as well as those wishing to gain in status within the court. Rumors, illicit compromises, affairs, and conspiracies never evaded his ears. Erik became omnipresent, a sort of god who heard all and knew all.

Months after Erik's arrival I found out what the true reason behind his service to the court and the awareness of this fact left my mind reeling. Any hope of redemption for the man faded quickly. I knew then that Erik was being led down a path that would forever change him for the worst. I only stood back and hoped that my words would work their way through the haze of power in which his mind would eventually become enveloped.


	6. Journal Entry 6

**Journal Entry 6**

Before coming under the service of the Shah, I had not realized the full brutality that could be born of both boredom and power. I had only read and heard of such things in books and tales. However, in my career, I saw the most heinous of crimes acted upon the insolent and impertinent as well as the innocent. I would not come to know the true meaning of brutality until Erik began to conjure up the most fantastic of interrogation devices and experiments.

As Erik and I began to grow accustomed to one another's presence, I began to take notice of Erik's personality traits. His dour persona was reflected in his disdain for all of those around him. His moods swayed between cathartic and maniacal. At times he seemed to not take heed in those around him but without a moment's notice, Erik would become restive and uncontrollable. There was no way for one to be able to determine what Erik might do. It was during this time that I began to worry about his mental well-being. Although he clearly hated being among others, he never shied away from truthfully explaining his point of view or how certain things should be managed. This meddling soon turned to the treatment of accused conspirators. Though still under the suspicion of the Shah, Erik's methods of thinking brought him closer into the Shah's inner sanctum. For the Shah, despite having reservations about Erik, was more concerned about possible plots against his rule.

Persia has long had a misunderstood and yet questionable history. My country has been looked upon with fear and hatred for many centuries. Even at this age and traveling extensively, I have yet to grow accustomed to the rather lax treatment of criminals in European countries. This is not to say that I condoned the treatment of political prisoners or criminals in my country. Still, a stronger fist must be employed to ensure a well-balanced society. I have yet to travel to a country where there is a happy medium.

During my time in Persia, torture was used as a tool of coercion, interrogation, and to instill fear in those disloyal to the kingdom. A great portion of those questioned by the Persian government were political dissenters. Such persecution was meant to destroy a being both psychologically and bodily in order that they may either relent to the pressures of the Shah's minions or divulge information about the whereabouts of other subjects of interest. I personally found torture unfavorable because of the results it yielded. Torture was never a clean venture, and information garnered was unreliable. At the behest of the Shah, and against my better judgment, prisoners were punished to the point of giving false testimony against others all in an attempt to avoid further infliction of atrocities. This led to investigations which wasted both time and effort, and at times, caused the unwarranted loss of life. The use of torture made my job as daroga exponentially more difficult. I grew to greatly dislike it for many reasons.

No one doubted the existence of torture within Persia. And despite this, many Persians still risked coups against the governing power. These attempts were met with the full power of the Shah, squashed beyond recognition. Whole families of the conspirators often vanished from one day to the next, leaving no trace of their former lives. Their homes, property, furniture, and clothing, all that a family required for daily living vanished within hours of the their capture. As a daroga, I saw the lasting effects of these methods I abhorred so much. Victims of Persian torture were left with musculo-skeletal problems, brain injury, and dementia. Because of the Shah's specious thoughts, children as well as women were subject to the same consequences. It was assumed by the Shah that persons of all ages held within themselves the ability to commit treason upon the kingdom. Furthermore, if one family member was a perpetrator of sedition, there was a possibility that the person confessed to a relation they believed they could trust.

The Persians had perfected the art of hanging by rope. Not only had hanging been invented within our borders, but it was a tool used quite often in both punishment and in cases of oppression. Methods were devised that allowed, in some instances, for the rope to be placed around a neck, resulting not in immediate death but asphyxiation. In the more extreme cases of punishment of criminals, a knot in the rope was made behind the neck. When a body was allowed to fall, the knot would sever the spinal chord, causing instant asphyxiation followed by the expiration of the corpse minutes later. Other methods included the forced ingestion of glass, the pouring of scalding chemicals onto genitalia (both males and females), among other things.

It was at this time that the Shah wanted more effective devices that reaped better results. Despite the atrocities these methods wrought, the Shah was in search of something, some sort of technique that would insure his continued power. Erik's inquisitiveness in the whole ordeal would earn him the right and the name, The Reaper of Death. I would be witness to invention after invention. The Shah relished in the additional power and terror Erik afforded him. As they celebrated their conquests, I quickly lost hope in all humanity.


	7. Journal Entry 7

**Journal Entry 7**

At the request of the Shah, Erik began to fabricate new devices to be used in inquisitions. The brisk alacrity in which Erik set about his new task rivaled his enthusiasm for his music. In order to keep Erik free of the lunacy that ran rampant within the court, I did my best to steer him in a better direction and to save his bourgeoning soul. My words fell on deaf ears. My exhorting did nothing to waver Erik's vision to find instruments that would satisfy his need to hurt others.

I believe Erik wanted to try the hand of God. No longer fearing a Higher Being nor a Hell, Erik took on the role of God. Perhaps this partially resulted from his mother and father having forced their views of religion upon a young mind that saw no kindness or charity within others; partially because Erik steadfastly refused to remain under the thumb of any power, be it a benevolent or malevolent being. To have power over life and death had overcome his mind, and I knew he was slipping ever deeper into oblivion when he no longer began to care for his music. His composing had ceased almost entirely.

At first Erik began slowly introducing new torment techniques. From what I could gather, his travels to the various areas of Europe only added to his repertoire of previously unknown or unseen methods of coercion. First came the _bastinado_ from Spain, which would later come to be known as _falaka_ in Persia. This consisted of beating the soles of a captive's feet with a cane. When I asked Erik why this particular practice was so effective, he explained to me the structure of the foot. A human foot has a cluster of nerve endings situated in the sole; the foot consists of numerous small bones and tendons which made _falaka_ an expedient tool. To further add to the humiliation and pain, Erik bound the feet to a wooden plank and the victim would be made to walk on their damaged feet afterward.

As Erik become more accustomed to his surroundings and the Persian climate, he began to find animals that would inflict severe pain on human flesh. During his late evening strolls, Erik found an assortment of animals that would cause an amount of pain on even the strongest of men. Erik at once constructed a box in which to place the prisoner and his findings. Only a circular hole was made at the crown of the box for the head to protrude. Centipedes, scorpions, spiders and snakes were then added to the box. Once the desired information was procured, the box, along with the person held within were placed outside the walls of palace. Carrion would later come to finish the job. The rear outer walls of the palace were lined with such boxes and the smell that emanated from they decaying flesh inside was such that the smell lingered with one's clothes.

Soon after, _scaphism_ was invented. It included the extreme ingestion of honey in order to cause a loosening of the bowels, which attracted insects of all sorts. The bodies of persons subjected to _scaphism_ were then left tied to a boat floating amongst a stagnant pond attracting more insects. Death usually resulted within three weeks' time.

However, it was the latest invention that disturbed me the most. It was at this point that I knew how affected Erik was by his appearance. Erik's efforts to duplicate a deformity upon another's face that matched his own was a constant goal that he strove for. It was not long before he found a method that would mildly yield the results he wanted. I was present for the first trial of the process Erik christened "The Cap," it was a sight I will not soon forget. Erik had scoured the kingdom for a tar-like substance; what he found was a sticky yet pliable mixture of molten sugar. When heated and cooled, this sugar attached itself to surfaces like no other. The process began with a heating of the material in a container which was then poured over the head of the victim. Once cooled, the tawny colored matter was torn off, taking lumps of skin and flesh along with it. The complete process left exposed sores upon the head, which eventually ulcerated and left a lifelong disfigurement. The pride in which I saw in his demeanor alerted me to the true danger Erik posed to humanity.


	8. Journal Entry 8

_To those of you who have read my story so far, thank you. I haven't had a chance to thank those of you who have left reviews. I deeply love Leroux and have striven to retain some of his tone in my fic. This has been hard, but rewarding work. I've enjoyed every minute of it thus far._

**Journal Entry 8**

Shortly thereafter, Erik began to incorporate his magician's background into his activities and he began to derive too much pleasure from his work. I believe it was at this time that the Little Sultana saw the gleam of pleasure within Erik's eyes; and she began to take notice of the kingdom's newest executioner extraordinaire. The Sultana was a young woman of only seventeen years. Forever having others to do her bidding, the child of the Shah was spoiled beyond rehabilitation. She was also her father's favorite child, perhaps because she carried the same ruthless spirit as he. Although beautiful, her eyes told a different story altogether. Never had I known her to look serene, instead one could determine by her stare that she was constantly conjuring some sort of injurious deception.

As a child of wealth, privilege and power, the girl worried for nothing. She had servants and bodyguards trailing her wherever she chose to go, that is if she allowed them to follow her. The girl was cunning beyond imagination and had such a deviant nature, one might think that she were born of the Devil himself. It was for this reason, this shared camaraderie, that she and Erik were able to peaceably co-exist within their respective worlds, if only for an abbreviated amount of time.

However much the Shah loved his daughter, he was not blind to his daughter's vices. He knew she took part in questionable activities which had the power to shame the family. In my capacity as daroga, I was called upon by the Shah to pursue the girl during hours when I was not extracting information from prisoners or investigating plots against the kingdom. I began this line of work shortly after the Sultana turned the age of thirteen. It was at this age when she began to act on her impulses, causing quite a stir within the palace.

The Sultana was quite duplicitous, but I was able to see past her facade. Those left unaware of the Little Sultana's deceit were easily taken by her attractiveness and graciousness when she was at her father's side. She knew I was not easily duped by her charming smile or her genial tone. My experiences with humans to this point taught me that there were many different faces one carried, and the Sultana was no different.

Put in the position of her apparent keeper, I found myself in a rather precarious situation. I was under the command of the Shah, and my livelihood as well as my life lay in his hands. If I disobeyed his orders, my life would be snuffed from this Earth with the least bit of hesitation. The Sultana had other plans for me. I lived under a cloud of uncertainty, darkened from both her and her father.

The Sultana kept company with a bevy of unsavory characters, all of whom she kept in line with the threat of torture. It was a well-kept secret within her ranks that she kept the bed warm for countless army officers, friends, and high-ranking officials. I too, had been approached by her lithe form with an offer to be pleased, all under the roof of her father's palace. As tempted as I was by her striking body, I knew what awaited me should we be found out. By rebuffing her advances, I had put myself into a dubious position where my life hung not only in the Shah's hands but hers as well.

Unknown to her parents, after many conquests, she sought out medical attention once she found she was with child, not once or twice, but four times during the time I kept watch over her. At the time of the pregnancies, she shared her bed with six men. As such, she was unsure of who had fathered the fetuses she carried within her. The men were never boastful regarding bedding the Sultana for fear of surrendering their lives to the Shah's malicious temperament. Rather than facing the wrath of her father and the real possibility of a sentence of death by stoning or honor-killing by her younger brothers, the Sultana chose the option of aborting her children. She came to me to shepherd her to the illicit procedures. I had to acquiesce under threat of her telling her father fabricated tales about our relations. Her iniquity was something to be feared.

Later, I came to find out that she had an extensive opium addiction. Of this her father knew but kept well-hidden. The opium only served to make the Sultana utterly uncontrollable, and it was during these stupors that I had the most trouble keeping watch over her. My vigilance over her nightly activities took me to places of ill repute where she partook in gatherings of heavy opium use. In the instances when she disappeared from her palace rooms altogether for weeks at a time, I was told that the family had taken the Sultana to the family's doctors in an effort to wean her from her drug addiction. Others outside of the Shah's inner sanctum were told the Little Sultana was traveling abroad, visiting various areas of the kingdom. My feeling was that these treatments never took affect, for she was out of sight for many times during my tenure.


	9. Journal Entry 9

**Journal Entry 9**

As a royal sequestered to her rooms and without the use of opium to pass away the time, the Sultana became restless. It was at this time that she called upon Erik to provide some sort of entertainment. At first the visits included music as well as his magician's tricks, but as time wore on, both grew increasingly tired with the activities they now associated with children's play.

As both began to come to a better understanding of one another, the entertainment quickly turned to the macabre.

In an attempt to show her prowess at inflicting human suffering, the Sultana called upon slaves and servants to serve as her victims. Both Erik and she would sit in the back most courtyard while male and female alike served as human push pins, were forced to consume shards of glass, and were tested on how long one could survive blood loss from amputation. These amputations varied from limb to limb.

Gratuitous violence and bloodshed followed the pair where ever they went.

This, despite the fact that I knew for certain that the Sultana was as taken aback by Erik's hideousness as the rest of the kingdom, including myself.

It was not long before the pampered Sultana's attention began to wane once again. At her request, the Shah commanded Erik to build a contraption that would satisfy his daughter, all in the hopes that she might abandon the opium pipe. The Shah was nearing the end of his patience with the Little Sultana and was willing to attempt anything that would prevent the petulant child from getting into further mischief.

What resulted was Erik's greatest torture invention of his life. This same machine would also nearly cost me my life some many years later.

The apparatus worked as thus. The machine was octagon in shape with its walls rotating on drums or axes once the mechanism was triggered. Almost instantaneously, the walls made of mirror began to heat to temperatures that rivaled the sands of our land. One could also say that the heat experienced within this Torture Chamber was far worse than what one could experience roving through our deserts.

Erik put to use his background as a master ventriloquist and illusionist when operating the chamber. As a means of further tormenting the body and mind, optical illusions were incorporated in the device. Images of water, wild life, and vegetation spun around the captive as they slowly began to lose his mental competency. Not only was Erik's invention a test of the physical human body, but it also applied substantial mental strains upon the poor soul locked within the chamber.

As desperation set in, the sufferer looked to the only tangible element left within the compartment that could offer respite from the horrors he beheld, a noose and a metal arm from which to swing.

In a most curious way, Erik brought about two ideas, first, his new and methodical use of illusion and second, the Persian art of hanging. Two methods of torture, one old and one new, converged to create a machine that left only death within its wake.

These days served under the Sultana came to be known as the rosy hours of Mazendaran.


	10. Journal Entry 10

_Thank you to those of you who have left reviews and suggestions. I have taken these and implemented the suggestions into my writing. Please make note that although my goal is to follow Leroux, I have taken several liberties in writing my fic. Research and other obligations have prevented me from writing longer chapters, but as promised, updates will be done once a week. Once again thank you for your kind words and critiques._

_**Disclaimer**: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, characters, places, etc. All rights belong to Gaston Leroux and their respected owners._

**Journal Entry 10**

1As Erik gained favor with both the Shah and his daughter, it came to my attention that Erik had made quite a few enemies within the court and a bounty was conspicuously put upon his head.

His abrupt attitude, lack of reverence to those of higher standing than he, and his eschewing of centuries old traditions made him the ire of many officials, despite the fact that Erik was gaining prominence with the Shah.

A handsome reward was covertly placed upon his head by those wishing to advance their positions.

Both Erik and I knew of these plots.

Despite the recompense promised for eradicating Erik's life, he seemed neither bothered nor worried.

As a service to the Shah, I labored to keep Erik alive; first to insure that the Shah's prized exotic magician, executioner and confidant's life did not expire before his time and secondly to ascertain how much Erik knew of the Shah's clandestine plans for the kingdom.

Placed in the position of protecting a life that cared not one bit whether he lived or died, my hand was forced to dispatch quite a few souls.

Erik made sport of the fact that he knew I was committed to securing his health. Often times he put himself into predicaments that seemed to test my strength as well as his would-be assassins convictions.

Recalling those incidences with defined clarity, I suspect Erik found hilarity in observing to what lengths I would strive to save his demented soul. During this period of time I found myself to be both emotionally and physically weary, alas, I could not let my guard down. My profession and my existence depended upon the satisfactory accomplishment of my tasks.

Erik was quite capable of protecting himself from attackers. Since arriving in Persia, his time fluctuated between serving the Shah, entertaining the Sultana, and gaining knowledge of self-defense.

Among his other talents, Erik was also quick to grasp and analyze the specifics of any object, lesson, or principle. It was with this uncanny ability that he was able to quickly take up and effectively use his catgut lasso. One could say he was a genius at causing violence wherever he tread.

Erik's obsession with perfection extended to everything he touched or set out to accomplish.

In my dealings with beings of all walks of life, I have concluded that persons who are deficient in one area of their lives are inclined to seek precision in another. Erik and his clear discomfort over his appearance made his mastery of lasso all the more compelling.

In an effort to further advance his practice, Erik began testing his skills with the catgut lasso on condemned political prisoners.

The Sultana, having tired once again of her surroundings encouraged Erik to make a public spectacle of his quick work of dispatching lives. It was not long before an arena was constructed.

Of the occasional brawls I witnessed, Erik was armed with nothing more than the lasso, his opponent was given protective armor, which in the end did nothing to save his life. One quick flick of Erik's wrist sent the lasso through the air and around his foes throat. A swift rotation of the wrist caused instant asphyxiation and a severing of the neck. Death was instantaneous. As Erik's skill became widely known, a multitude of men visited the palace all in the hopes of finding Erik's weakness. As their bodies were carried away, Erik shrank back into the shadows. He made no movement to show any emotion.


	11. Journal Entry 11

_Thank you once again to those who have read my piece thus far. Because I don't like answering questions before presenting my updates, I have decided to answer questions in the "Review" sections. If you have questions, please place them there and I will answer them by leaving a review as an answer. Until then, thank you once again._

**Journal Entry 11**

1It was not long after Erik's show of his aptitude for death when I noticed that the Shah had begun to look at Erik suspiciously.

According to the Shah, the Sultana had taken too much interest in Erik, a man of such a heinous nature and of no royal upbringing or for that matter, not even Persian. Shame would not be brought upon the household, even if Erik had become a favored member of the court. Their clandestine meetings and secretive glances at one another greatly worried the Shah.

I was questioned as to their true relationship and spoke truthfully of what I saw. The Sultana had no sexual interest whatsoever in Erik. She had paid him heed when he willingly committed murder on persons she considered her nemeses. What I told the Shah did not have the effect of calming his curiosities regarding the Sultana and Erik.

Shortly thereafter, Erik's abbreviated stay within Persia was cut short by slanderous postulating and rumors started by none other than the Sultana.

The little Sultana, having grown bored yet again had taken up the opium pipe in order to pass the time. In doing so, she began her midnight excursions into the homes of her former bed companions, her licentiousness nature once again rearing its head.

Opium, having the effect of deluding one's senses, allowed the Sultana to once again conceive a child, but she would not know of this until almost a full month following.

Two months after the seed was planted within her womb, the Sultana had yet to visit her physician to abort the child. Religious services coinciding with the Persian New Year required her attendance at different rituals and obligatory royal appearances. I had not noticed a change in her physical character at the time of her pregnancy. My attention had been focused on the process of interrogating a man for the near-assassination of the Shah when the news of her pregnancy came to light. It was during this time that the Sultana began to feel the effects of her condition.

These clear signals of being with child did not escape her mother. She, in turn, reported her suspicions to her husband.

Upon being savagely questioned by the Shah and under the threat of death, the Sultana confessed her sins. But one should not think for one moment that she professed the truth.

In an attempt to escape what would be certain death for having relations with men before marriage, the Sultana began her most insidious tale.

According to her yarn of lies and deceit, the Sultana made every effort to spare the life of the man that had come under the Shah's favor. Erik, having shared a common interest with her, had taken an interest in her physical body. Erik flirtatiously interacted with her, making many crude comments which offended her immensely. Often at night she found Erik staring at her nude figure as she rested in her chambers. She had been able to distinguish his body by the flicker of yellow that emanated from his eyes in the darkness. Not wanting to provoke his ill temper, the Sultana never chastised Erik for his stolen glances of her form.

After many rebuffs, Erik became agitated and began to stalk her like a feral animal. It was during one night when he suddenly appeared in her room unannounced. Try hard as she might, Erik pinned her to her bed, keeping one of his death hands at her mouth to prevent her from screaming. The other arm was used to hold down her flailing hands. He ravished her and ravished her until she was nearly unconscious and unable to move. He left as silently as he had come in, not taking so much as a backward glance at her.

The Sultana felt disgusted to have been touched in such a manner by a man who was not her husband.

I was present for the debauchery that spilled unrestrained from the Sultana. And I believed not one word of it.

Erik, though repulsed by humanity, would never take advantage of a woman, but not because he was not interested in the opposite sex. I had previously seen him watch women as they bustled about him, making sure that every one of his needs were met. The look in his eyes told me he was curious about them but knew better than to take action in satisfying this curiosity.

The taking of a woman against her will would have shattered the self-constraint Erik had carefully constructed. This type of behavior was below him. Furthermore Erik had told me in so few words that he had seen what men did in the name of love for a woman.

He vowed to never come under their spell.


	12. Journal Entry 12

_Thank you once again to those who are reading. If there are any questions, please leave them as a review and I will respond there as well._

**Journal Entry 12**

1Taking my post by the entrance to the Shah's atrium, I was pummeled by prodding questions regarding my lack of attention to my duties.

How had both of my charges gotten past my vigilant watch? How had I allowed the Sultana of Persia to be taken by a savage beast, an infidel with no moral compass?

I was to expect my punishment after Erik met his demise.

I was at once instructed to find Erik and bring him back in chains. The Shah loudly proclaiming that he had never trusted Erik, even from the moment his gaze fell upon the skeleton of that "thing," as he described Erik.

The Sultana ran to her mother for solace, but she was to find no comfort in those arms.

The Sultana, though not guilty of defaming her body, she was guilty of cavorting with the man. She had, in essence, brought upon the whole situation on herself. Her punishment would be severe, but would not include death.

Her life would be saved.

The Sultana thanked and praised her parents profusely for their generosity, great wisdom and never-ending patience.

As she exited the hall, I gave her a sideways glance. I caught the glimpse of a sly smile spreading across her face.

Her happiness would not last long.

Shortly thereafter, the Sultana was taken away from the palace and away from all temptation. Her life was spared, but the life of her child was not. Even though the Sultana was the Shah's most favored child, in an attempt to circumscribe any other offending bastard children, the Sultana was rendered barren for the duration of her natural life. She would never conceive again, nor would she ever be betrothed to a man. Her life effectively ended the day she passed under the doorway and out of her father's presence.

As a consequence of her frivolous actions, the Sultana's life was put on a cruel path with no chance of redemption. Her life was now to be dictated by others who were threatened with bodily harm should the Sultana be allowed to stray once again.

In accordance with Muslim tradition, women are held in high reverence for their ability to create life and produce sons. The purity of a Muslim woman is a sign of noble upbringing. An infertile woman is shunned by the Muslim community as well as her family and more times than not, the woman becomes a spinster.

Despite the royal blood that ran through her veins, the Sultana would not be protected from her misdeeds.

Erik would never learn of the Sultana's fate.

I knew the true causes behind the Sultana's pregnancy and promiscuity. Wish as much as the Sultana wanted, Erik was not one of the reasons. Her immaturity and talent for finding trouble made her the thorn in her parents' side. I felt no pity for her situation. Erik had found some stability within the Shah's palace walls and it was my duty to uproot him from one of the few places he could call a home.

As the daroga, I was to deliver him into Death's hands.

There would be no quarter for violating Muslim laws. The enemies of Islam were not afforded trials in Persia, only an order of death was dealt with no questions asked.

Erik could never be considered an innocent soul. The atrocities he took part in were enough to suggest that he held no sympathy for those living around him, and given the chance, he might once day tire of me and dispose of my body as he did the countless others.

My feelings of Erik's guilt weighed upon me. My nagging sense of decency made me aware that handing over Erik for crimes he did not commit went against what little religion I subscribed to at the time.

I was not yet able to sentence the man to death, especially one accused by the Sultana.

I picked the path that I would follow, despite the severe consequences that would meet me if I were discovered. I would sheperd Erik out of Persia with the strict promise from him to reform his ways.

Realistically, I was aware I was asking for a promise he could not keep. Death was an intrinsic part of his life and much like his face; Erik was beyond the pale of humanity.


	13. Journal Entry 13

**Journal Entry 13**

1To my dismay, Erik was not easily convinced of the plot against him.

Or rather, Erik did not seem to care one bit that his hours upon this Earth were numbered and quickly slipping by.

As I recounted the Sultana's story, Erik turned his back towards me, head slightly tilted and looked out into the city's flickering horizon. I explained the seriousness of the accusations made against him but he was paid me no attention whatsoever. He seemed lost in thought.

Having finished all that I had to tell him, Erik whirled upon me and strode in my direction.

After all that I had reported, Erik had the audacity to suggest revenge upon the Shah, Sultana, and the kingdom. He knew of methods to terminate lives and dispose of bodies that left little clues as to who the culprits were. His varied education in murder would insure his survival beyond the next few days.

Erik was greatly misjudging the convictions of the Shah. The undeniable look of hatred that I saw imprinted on the Shah's face told me to what lengths he would go to exact his revenge upon Erik.

I had no doubt in Erik's abilities to kill whoever he pleased. I had seen him at his craft many a time, and I knew hesitancy was not within his nature. However, Erik was accused of committing an unspeakable crime against a child of the Shah.

Until this point, Erik had been part of a blood sport, not a survival game conducted by the Shah.

If I was unable to detain Erik and surrender him for punishment, bounty hunters would be called upon to track him. Assassins of the highest caliber would be employed. He knew not of the atrocities that awaited him.

No expense would be overlooked to bring about honor and justice for the Sultana.

With desperation invading my voice, I began to hurriedly explain all that would befall Erik should he be captured. Any graciousness regarding his masked face would disappear and if he feared others looking upon his naked flesh, the horrors that awaited him were much worse.

The Shah's henchmen were adept at finding a prisoner's weakness. They would soon exploit Erik's and if at all possible, they would further disfigure his body. Erik was a strong man, but he had only faced a few dozen men at a time, this would be no comparison to the hundreds of soldiers that the Shah would employ to capture Erik.

The Shah had been recently visited by statesmen from the Orient and with them they brought a newly retooled form of _Death by a Thousand Cuts_. Word had reached me regarding the Shah's enthusiasm in trying the new method. If my instincts were correct, these cuts would be administered to Erik's face.

After much contemplation Erik relented. We would leave post-haste. The hours until sunrise were quickly coming upon us and we needed the cover of darkness to cloak our movement.

I left Erik gathering a few of his belongings. I, in the meantime, gathered provisions for the arduous journey and contacted certain persons who would provide the needed transportation.

The question of producing a body for the Shah had also entered my mind. I knew of a shop keeper who embalmed severed hands and feet for those with a gross need to exhibit the odd. His services would be greatly appreciated.

I also needed time to myself in order to go over the different stages of the escape. One false word uttered to a suspicious ear and I too would not see the rise of the sun the following day.

My movements were mechanical and stealthy. It seemed I had learned a bit more from Erik than I had previously acknowledged.


	14. Journal Entry 14

_Disclaimer: I do not own The Phantom of the Opera, characters, places, etc. All rights belong to Gaston Leroux._

**Journal Entry 14**

1Our escape was made during the morning prayers when the entire country was busy giving thanks to Allah. The muezzin's cries to the faithful drowned whatever sounds of our footsteps made as we made our restive getaway.

Before leaving the shop where I had stored him, I quickly showed Erik the proper stance and bow of a person deep in prayer. If seen moving during the morning ritual, we would be expected to pay homage to Allah and Mohammed by lowering ourselves to our knees and prostrating our bodies in meditation. The delay would only serve to put Erik into further danger, however we could not raise suspicion.

The darkness of the early morning was on our side.

The tension I felt emanating from Erik at the time was quite palpable. Based upon the stories he had told me about his existence, Erik had relied on not one single soul for his safety. Instincts and a will to never depend upon others spurred him to survival. From the hesitancy that I sensed from Erik, he was still unsure as to the true depth of our acquaintance or to the reason why I had not handed him over to the executioners sickle.

I was still uncertain as to why I was helping the escape of a murderous fiend.

I knew if I acted suspiciously around the man, he would not hesitate ending my life in the middle of the road. I was forced to focus my attention on moving about silently and surely to avoid detection but also with air of confidence that did not give away my nervousness to Erik. My wits were under a tremendous amount of strain.

Before leaving the confines of the city, Erik and I paused at the home of yet another associate of mine. It was here that I gave Erik a new catgut lasso, a sword, clothing, some blankets to rest upon, bags of water, and dry basmati rice and other dry foods. The food stuff I was able to procure would only serve Erik for a few days, but I had hoped he would be able to come upon other villages where he would be able to replenish his stock. I did not wish to burden Erik's travel with too many articles to carry. Speed was a necessity. I also made sure to give Erik enough coins to purchase other necessary goods he might need along his journey. When I had finished handing him everything I had guessed he would need, Erik turned to me and bowed. He said nothing more.

I made no mention to Erik of the plans already set into action.

Special attention had to be given to the body that was to stand in his stead. The corpse was of suitable size and stature and could easily pass as Erik's cadaverous body. The skin was first bleached of most of its color and a process was performed to halt further bloating. Secondly, the body was dipped in a liquid to give it Erik's yellow pigmentation. I then went about destroying the face, making it unrecognizable. When the body was ready, I transported it to an alcove that would remain its hiding place until after Erik had left the surrounding territories.

As the sun began to rise, Erik and I once again set out for the outlying walls. It was here where a horse was made available to him for the trek that was sure to be treacherous. I made sure to acquire a young black steed that would remain unseen in the darkness of night.

Erik quickly donned the attire and gloves that would protect him from the rising sun. After a few words of caution, I informed Erik that the best direction to travel would be to the West, back to the lands from whence he came. The Shah had many friends in the East and traveling towards those outlying areas would bring certain death. Erik seemed to consider my words for several moments before agreeing.

This would be the last time I would see Erik for many decades. When our paths would converge again, they would be under different circumstances and in a foreign land. As we parted ways, Erik promised to repay me the money I had spent on the items I collected for him. I bowed, and as a sign of respect, I touched my hand from my forehead to my heart. Erik obliged me the same sign in return. He never gave me a word of thanks but I knew what my act of kindness meant to a person in his situation. And with that, I left.


	15. Journal Entry 15

_Happy Halloween to everyone!_

1**Journal Entry 15**

My time served as Daroga saw some peace within society. Crime was still a major concern of mine, however my time was devoted towards protecting the reigning family from coups.

I did as best I could with the resources and time allotted to me. There had been instances in my career when I asked myself if I was still involved in a profession that gave me pleasure and a sense of achievement. More often than not, my answer was no, fortunately, the day Erik left Persia for good, my occupation served me well.

A gang of marauding thieves and murderers had been terrorizing a poverty-stricken area of the kingdom, attacking anyone who could possibly have something of value within their possession. Those persons who struggled in the slightest met their fate at the end of a shiv.

During my time of trailing both the Little Sultana and Erik, I assigned the tracking of infamous group to one of my staff.

Persian justice was swift, especially in the instance of being accused of murder. The Persian penal code operated on a basis of "eye for an eye." Murderers were exterminated, thieves lost an appendage, and adulterers were stoned. Those passing along false rumors about the government faced public flogging.

This was the code of civility that all Persians were to live by, all save for the Shah and his family.

During the time of my absence from my post, word had reached me that another murder had been committed by the particular group I was interested in. Their whereabouts had been located, only my word was being waited for so that arrests could be made. I took special interest in this particular group of three men that were apprehended because they held the power to further my ruse of Erik's death. Their alibis would fit nicely into the time-table of Erik's disappearance.

No one questioned me when I began to interrogate the group about the man they were accused of murdering.

The body of a severely beaten victim was discovered in an alcove not far from their center of operations. The body was that of a male, tall in height, slim in build, pale beyond comparison, with a face that was broken beyond any sort of recognition. All articles that could properly identify the body were gone. A full facial mask was discovered within close proximity of the corpse.

The three men looked at each other in exasperation when the description of the body did not fit the injured party they had dealt with. One man began to speak rapidly, explaining that the body that had been found was not of their doing. Knowing full well of the calling card this group left when committing crimes, the man sitting before me asked if there were marks upon the dead body. I answered in the positive.

In my research I discovered that the band of criminals marked the bodies of their victims with a sign of defiance and pride. The pack of members numbered in the upper thirties. It was their custom to travel in clusters of three: one to distract, the other to serve as the watch, the last to commit the robbery and possible murder. When a corpse was found, a tell tale sign of the group was the three knife wounds made in the soft flesh of the belly, the puncture wounds were made to form a triangle.

This fact had not alluded me when I procured the body that I would deliver to the Shah.

The detained men were led away to a detention cell. Their fates and the sparing of their lives now lay in the hands of the Shah. They would likely not live to see the moon rise twice for the crimes and murders they each were charged with; the Shah was not one to overturn a death sentence when evidence pointed to guilt or if the persons in question maintained a history of violence.

My conscience was clean as I strode out of my office towards the palace. Erik had been gone for many hours and the criminals I had been pursuing for some time were jailed for ending the life of another Persian.

The body of their actual victim would be taken to my acquaintance for embalming and any sign of Erik's sudden disappearance would vanish and soon be forgotten.


	16. Journal Entry 16

1**Journal Entry 16**

Before meeting with the Shah for a briefing, I made my way to Erik's chambers in order to make sure that all was in its place. I quickly scanned the room for tell tale signs that he had not disappeared forever but had simply left for a stroll.

Within the chambers I discovered Erik's sheets of music, writing quills, architectural designs and supplies. I knew nothing then, and never have, of music. Still, I could see the genius that resided in Erik's head as I leafed through the parchments that contained the music. The architectural sketches embossed on paper were as unique in design as Erik. If he were able to escape Persia with his head intact, Erik had the promise of becoming a great architect, only his icy demeanor and unsightly form would prevent him from becoming well known for his accomplishments.

My conflicting emotions regarding Erik baffled me. I had seen Erik inflict many a cruel gesture upon others, but I was also able to see that Erik was a man that would lead a life that I would never be able to comprehend. The hideous grotesqueness of his whole person would never allow him to be an accepted member of this world, no matter where he traveled.

By allowing Erik to escape Persia, I knew I was only prolonging his inevitable demise. Erik's lack of regard for authority, his unwillingness to follow protocol, coupled with his abhorrent behavior and overall appearance made him a prime candidate for an early death. I was unsure, but all indications told me that Erik had a tormented mind, one that if it had belonged to a person with some compassion for those around him, would have transformed the world.

Alas, Erik was born with a deficiency that he had no control over and instead of coming to terms with the lot that given to him at birth, Erik struck out at those who broached his zone of comfort. For Erik, this meant that any one who crossed his path was liable to feel his wrath. I attributed this to Erik's upbringing as well my suspicions of some sort of mental imbalance that prevented him making the determination between good and evil.

I stood at Erik's writing table when the Shah silently stepped into the room. I knew Erik would not care for his music to be destroyed at the hands of illiterate fools. I was in the process of secretly pocketing the manuscripts when the Shah spoke.

The Shah strode into the chamber where I was standing and took a seat among the various covers settled on the floor. The Shah began to look about the room, taking note of the order of the numerous sketches laid about the chamber.

All servants of the Shah were expected to speak directly to him rather than mumbling incoherent words with backs turned. I slowly turned to face the Shah, careful to not stir suspicion in my voice. The Shah languidly questioned me on any news I may have had of Erik's whereabouts. In an even tone, I began to recount the tale of the death and subsequent arrest of Erik's murderers. The body had been found with the betraying markings of the groups' handy work. The men were being held, waiting for the Shah's final sentence.

The Shah nodded his head as he listened to my tale of finding Erik's body and the interrogation of the guilty parties. When he finally spoke, the Shah stood at the window overlooking the gardens below. He turned to me as a thoughtful expression came to his face. Where had Erik been found? Were we sure it was he? How did he expire? Had Erik met his fate at the hands of conspirators?

He then went on to mention how fortunate it was that Erik had met his demise so soon after he was sure to die at the Shah's hands. I expressed my agreement in his words, hoping the perspiration that had been forming upon my upper lip could not be seen from where the Shah was sitting.

The Shah then gave me a sideways glance, eyes narrowing, and it was then that I knew he had discovered the truth of Erik's disappearance. He questioned me on whether I was making any effort to hunt my missing prized black stallion. I feigned surprise at his revelation.

The Shah went on; a spy spotted Erik riding off in the distance on a horse that curiously looked like my own. Shortly thereafter, two bounty hunters were sent to retrieve Erik with strict instructions to not kill the man. The Shah had every intention of watching Erik wither beneath the very tools he had invented for the torture and eventual death of prisoners.

My lack of attention to my duties had been upsetting to the Shah. I no longer held the qualities that made me the once artful daroga to the kingdom, my days at my post would be numbered if Erik did not make an appearance before the court.

Guards were called into the chambers to lead me to a room where I was to be detained until the bounty hunters produced Erik.


	17. Journal Entry 17

_My apologies to those of you who are reading my story. I have been neglecting _Smoke and Mirrors_ because of recent activities in my life. I just moved and this relocation has taken more time than I would have liked. Hopefully I will get back into the swing of things. In the meantime, here is another chapter._

**Journal Entry 17**

1A full day came and went and I still had heard no word of Erik's whereabouts. I remained in the room that was selected for my captivity quietly waiting for news of my fate. I had encircled the area scanning for an object or a possible device that would aid my escape. After hours of fruitless scouring, I dropped to the ground defeated. Erik would perish for my inability to find the spy who had disclosed his location.

I believed all of my efforts were for naught.

A second day of no news only served to spur my restlessness. I had not slept the two days I was caged within the room nor had I spoken a word to anyone. I had not had any visitors, yet I could faintly hear the murmur of whispers outside my door. Thirst had parched my throat, and the hunger that had clamped down upon my stomach was becoming unbearable.

Upon the end of my sixth day of captivity with limited food and drink, the door to my room opened to allow the Shah and his entourage of imperial guards to enter. The look of dissatisfaction was plainly clear on the Shah's face. I stood to make my bow of respect but was swiftly met with the cuff of his hand upon my face. The rings that the Shah wore cut into the soft flesh of my face. I immediately felt blood begin to ooze from the gash I received.

Erik had indeed escaped, no thanks to the work I had performed.

The spies that had earlier been employed to follow both Erik and myself at the beginning of our acquaintance had witnessed Erik riding to the north towards the Caspian Sea on a steed that was identified as my own horse, MahrAm. When news of Erik's flight reached the Shah, bounty hunters were sent to pursue and apprehend Erik before he crossed the borders into the neighboring regions of rugged terrain. At the Talesh mountain range, the bounty hunters caught glimpse of Erik in the horizon. The battle of wills and strength that ensued claimed the lives of the bounty hunters as well as the lives of their horses.

When the bounty hunters did not arrive within a reasonable time, scouts were sent in the direction Erik was seen fleeing. By the time these men arrived upon the corpses, birds and various other desert animals had already taken to the bodies, leaving no more than scraps of flesh, bone and cloth.

The weapons and provisions the men carried were not found among their bodies. Erik had confiscated these articles to take with him on his journey, or so I presumed. Unfortunately for the Shah, the hours that had passed since clash had left little in the way of evidence as to the direction Erik was traveling. The breeze had blown away any traces of footprints upon the sand and there was nothing left in the area that would be able to help determine what day or time the melee had occurred. Scores of scouts were then sent in different directions, all searching for the long, lost masked man.

The Shah turned to scrutinize my reaction to the news he bore. I had no choice but to look him squarely in the face, not uttering a word for fear of some sort of reprisal. I was told that my incompetence would cost me dearly, however I would not be told of my sentence for several days. The Shah ordered that I be held within my own cells, amongst the criminals I had formerly captured.

The humiliation of now becoming an undesirable, I was told, was only the beginning of my punishment.


	18. Journal Entry 18

1**Journal Entry 18**

I spent nearly twenty-five days within the cells of my own prison.

Strict orders were given to my assistants that no favors or special attention were to be given on my behalf. It is my understanding that they were told to encourage confrontations between myself and the other prisoners held in cells nearby.

I was placed within the confined quarters of one particularly violent criminal who was awaiting final word of his fate. My associates had spared no expense in capturing the man. He knew I was the daroga and during the first few days of my captivity, he stayed his distance, suspicious for the reasons behind my imprisonment. As the days passed, night turned into day and back again, my cellmate concluded I was being detained through order of the Shah.

He wasted little time in the exchanging pleasantries that left my body battered and bruised.

Word quickly spread to the other prisoners of my detainment. The taunts, threats and abuses I received did little to humiliate my position. I resigned myself to accept whatever would befall me; whether it be life or death at the hands of persons I had captured.

My epiphany came in the form of surviving the events I had set into motion.

Fate would lead my life in the direction it was destined. Whereas before I feared death, I came to the conclusion that my conscience was now clean and all culpability for my former misdeeds were ransomed with the assistance I gave to Erik. I made up my mind then that if I were to survive the sentence the Shah would pass upon my life, I would do my utmost to find Erik and secure the health of anyone who might cross his path. I knew that in making this pledge, I was sure to raise his ire. However I was determined to assist in any way I could.

As I boldly yet silently made this declaration to myself, I was gripped with sudden fear.

In my selfishness, I had forgotten the consequences that my actions might have on my kin. I was still unmarried, but my siblings were now married with children of their own. My brothers and sisters all owned large parcels of land throughout the kingdom, with several servants, and a wealth acquired from my father upon his passing. Our family was not destitute and lived quite comfortably. My connections as the daroga, as well as those of my uncle's and father's, had, until this point, kept my family's fortune secure. By defying the Shah and taking matters into my own hands, I had delivered their lives to the court.

I had seen enemies of the Shah disappear along with their families from one day to the next. I had never been party to the death squads that gathered political enemies and their kith and kin, but I knew of certain outlying areas that supposedly were the resting places for many of their corpses. My position was not to investigate the Shah, but to gather information on those threatening his authority. As such, I never questioned the validity of the rumors nor was I bold enough to travel to these areas and exhume the remains of those missing.

Any land holdings and possessions transferred ownership from the families to the kingdom. In some more severe instances, females were given to the men of the court as courtesans, wives and slaves. Young girls were used to pleasure the elder court members and if these females were found to be unsatisfactory, they were quickly put to the knife. Men and young boys were likewise sold into slavery or disposed of.

If the Sultana was in need of more victims, persons were given to her to satiate her lust for violence and blood. These prisoners did not have a choice as to their final fate. However, if one were to choose, the more humane of the acts was to be spared by the executioner's ax. This death was sure to be fast with little torture as compared to an extended period of time spent suffering at the hands of the Sultana.

I had nieces and nephews who ranged in age from those just out of the womb to those nearly reaching young adulthood. All the children were innocents, with no cares, no enemies, or worries. I had unwittingly caused all of this to change within a matter of hours. I feared for their lives as well as the lives of their parents.

For the first time in many years, I bent down upon my knees and prayed in earnest for God to spare the lives of my family.


	19. Journal Entry 19

**Journal Entry 19**

After serving four weeks within the confines of a cell, I was taken before Shah for final instruction as to my fate. His sentinels strapped my legs and arms in chains and I was taken through the kingdom for a public viewing.

Disheveled and odorous from weeks without a proper bath, I staggered forward with a brave face. Individuals crowding the streets parted to make way for our small procession. Mothers covered their children's eyes, women pinched their noses at my stench, and those I knew met my gaze for only a few seconds before looking away. I could not blame them for doing so. Any sort of affiliation with my name put acquaintances in danger and I had not the heart to have more lives looming over my head.

Once we approached the palace I was directed toward the Shah's main chambers. It was then that frisson set itself into my mind.

Once again my thoughts drifted to my family. The time I had spent in captivity had not allowed me to gain any knowledge as to their well-being. I feared the worst and I began to ready my mind for the news I knew was certain would break my spirit

The Shah was already within the room when I entered. He seemed to have been looking over architectural plans for new edifices that would house his new bath house.

I had studied these plans along side the Shah some many months ago, long before I fell into his disfavor. The plans were brilliant with multi-colored tile depicting the proud Persian history, basins in which to soak tired feet, furnaces for heating water, and piping that supplied the building with running water. All of these intricacies lost their marvel when the Shah turned to address me.

I bowed my head in respect as I met the Shah's gaze and waited for him to speak first before addressing him. The Shah took his place in his seat as he eyed me from head to toe.

Erik had still not been found. Countless persons were employed to trail Erik but these excursions into the desert turned fruitless. Money, time and life had been wasted on a man I was charged with controlling. During the preceding month, some of the Shah's men had been lost in the wilderness tracking Erik.

As a consequence to my mishandling of the situation, my life would be spared for the time being. My uncle's service to the kingdom has insured that my life would be spared, if only for a few months more. The Shah considered this repayment enough for the loyalty my uncle had shown.

However, the Shah informed me that I was not to be fooled by his generosity. All properties formerly belonging to my family were commandeered and would belong to the Shah to do what he pleased.

My siblings and their families were to vacate their abodes within two days time. Any and all monies were also confiscated, leaving my family destitute and only able to pawn a few possessions in exchange for funds. Only those who held some governmental position were allowed to keep their pensions, yet I was the only member who held such a position. The Shah's ruling left those closest to me to become vagrants with a tainted family name. They would be looked upon with scorn wherever they traveled within Persia. I remember dropping my head in shame as the Shah finished his final orders.

Having concluded our meeting, the Shah directed his men to take me within the palace so that I may become presentable. The Shah informed me that once a complete cleansing had been accomplished, he would ask for my audience again.

The term "cleansing" had two meanings within the palace. The first of the two meanings meant to bathe and indeed, become presentable. The second of the two meanings was the moniker given to torture.

I was taken into chambers far below the entrance level of the palace. It was here where the Shah's guards inflicted as much pain on my body as they could.

They began by stripping me of all of my clothing and blindfolding my eyes. I fought back as much as I could, but the sheer size and strength of the men quickly overpowered me. I was then surrounded by six men who struck and kicked my body. After what seemed like an eternity, I was left in a pool of my own blood and stomach contents.

The following day, unable to move because of the assaults I received the day prior, I was gagged with a piece of cloth with my arms tied behind my back. Frigid water was then poured over my body. The temperature of the water was such that it restricted my breathing and I was unable to catch my breath because of the object in my mouth. My lungs burned as my body fought to gain even the slightest bit of air. Shortly thereafter, my body began to spasm while a thousand points of pain pricked my skin as I attempted to both cough and breathe. As I frantically looked about my surroundings in an attempt to find something or someone that might help me in my predicament, my sight was clouded with dark points.

When I finally began to lose consciousness I felt the movement of others around me. I faintly heard one of the guards advise me that I was being measured for my death shroud.


	20. Journal Entry 20

1**Journal Entry 20**

After slipping to and from consciousness for what seemed like weeks, I was given some respite.

The toll on my body was such that I was unable to move voluntarily. The Shah made an appearance only once during this time of my cleansing. I only remember lifting my gaze and discerning that the figure that stood in the doorframe was that of the Shah. He concluded that enough physical damage had been done to complete the first stage of my sentence.

Upon declaring the end of my torture, the Shah ordered that I be taken from this particular room to another with a bed so that my body might recuperate from the entire ordeal. My sick room consisted of a small cot, with nothing more than prison-grade bedding, much like those that were in the prison when it was still under my control. The room had no windows and only a flicker of a flame for light. I was held in almost complete darkness with no one to converse with. I heard movement, distinctly not human, within the room.

I was tied to the bed so that I might not escape. If the guards had known the true state of my condition, they would have known that I could not raise my arm, let alone plan a successful getaway.

The mere act of breathing made movement unbearable and the strain of the bonds across my chest made breathing all the more difficult. Unable to move, I lay in the dark, deathly silence of the small room with only my thoughts of my family and visions of Erik perishing under the Persian sun.

I remained in this state for an amount of time I could not determine. The laws of nature told me that the sun and moon must have risen and set beyond the horizon I was not privy to see. I was not given a bed pan for my waste nor did I have the luxury of wiping the matter off of my body.

Within weeks, I had developed bed sores that burned with the slight breeze that wafted through the room. I was also not given the luxury of a covering for my body. The bedding I was laid upon was not new nor was it clean. Unable to move my arms, I suffered through bed bug bites that quickly grew infected. The bites ran the length of my body, in my hair, within my ears, and inside my nasal cavities and around my eyes. My screams of horror rang through the room, bringing me no solace from my torment.

And so my life went on this way, far below the ground level of the palace, for an undetermined amount of time. I became increasingly weaker as time wore on and my body could not mend itself. I longed to breathe untainted air, to feel the sun upon my skin and to move on my own volition. I was visited only once a day by someone who was sent to feed me. Some of these visits were accompanied with ministrations of some sort of odd smelling salve for my infections.

One day, after staring into the darkness and ruminating about a career most definitely lost because of my carelessness, the door to my cell opened. I suddenly felt hands upon my person, untying the knots to the captive straps. The perfume that met my nose told me the hands belonged to a woman and as quickly as they appeared they were gone in an instant. As I tried to make sense of what was transpiring, a set of large, course hands were set upon my shoulders lifting me off the bedding. The days spent bound to my bed had left my muscles atrophied and useless. Unable to walk, I was dragged out of the room.

The rays of light projected by the sun burned my delicate eyes causing them to feel as though a thousand needle points were suddenly thrust into my eyes. I was brusquely led into a room and set into a tub of water. The same woman's delicate perfume made its way to my nose and at once she began to tenderly bathe me. She took my feet into her hands and began to file the nails down to a respectable length. Once done she then turned to my hands. I struggled to see who the woman. However my eyes were still unconditioned to natural light, and my vision took in no more than bright colors. Soon after a man strode into the area in order to lift me so that the woman could place fresh robes over my head.

Then I was left alone.


	21. Journal Entry 21

**Journal Entry 21**

For three days I willed my body to function as it once did.

I glanced at my figure in a mirror and found the face that stared back at me was no longer a face I could claim to know. Within a matter of months I had aged drastically. My once muscled body was a shell of its former self. My weight loss occurred with such rapidity that my skin sagged on my frame. The shock of seeing my reflection should have been more overwhelming but I no longer cared for my outward appearance. I stared at the blank-eyed man who stood before me and began to take inventory of all that had changed during my incarceration. My skin was drawn; my complexion was no longer robust but sallow and sickly. My hands had taken on a skeletal appearance and no longer had strength within their grasp. I opened my mouth only to notice that my gums had receded from my teeth and had taken on an almost blanched color. It was when a sob suddenly escaped past lips that I realized I had been silently crying.

Thoughts of the events that had lead to this moment - to all of this - raced through my mind and I was bombarded with emotions. I could find no one to curse other than myself for all of my follies, for daring to take risks when I should have known better, and most of all for caring for the survival of a man I was unsure deserved my trust.

I am not quite sure how long I stood there looking at myself, lost in a daze of self-pity, loathing, and fear before I realized that I had to exert some sort of control over my circumstances. I could not allow myself to slip into the dark abyss of pity because doing so would only render all of my life's work meaningless. What good would it be to allow a man such as Erik his freedom when I doomed myself to an uglier fate? I decided then that my story, my journey along this mortal coil would not end within those palatial walls.

Having long been interested in the science of the human body, I knew that only slow and deliberate exercises in movement and agility could repair my muscles. It was from this basis that I began to work the varying muscles of my body. I set about regaining my strength through nourishment.

In the time of my captivity, I was only allowed a scant amount of food. My meals were never given to me on a regular basis with days often slipping by without any sort of nourishment. My body no longer could be trusted with devouring and digesting nutrients without causing it some irreparable harm. I knew if I ate the large rations my stomach cried for, I could eat more than my body would allow. The fear I had was the possibility of making make myself ill with the risk of going into shock. Yet another concern was the consumption of too much liquid. I used every once of my will to avoid allowing my thirst to take a hold of my senses. I had seen what massive amounts of water could do to a body through the various uses of torture with which it was employed. Prisoners were sometimes forced to consume buckets of water within a short amount of time that lead to deterioration of their bodies and a passing into unconsciousness that often lead to death.

And so I went about rehabilitating my body. In an effort to expedite the process I conservatively slept and during the waking hours I practiced exercises that were taught during my years in military school. Everything from meditation to repetitions of arm conditioning was done in an effort to regain some of my former strength.

No more than a week passed when the Shah finally appeared at my chamber door as I attempted to eat a light lunch. I was still recovering the full function of my limbs, so with a stumble I climbed to my feet to greet him. He bade me to take my place once again, which was odd for a man who required all that persons stand at the utmost silence and stillness before he ever took his seat. His sudden appearance at my door and the courteousness that he granted me gave me a feeling of apprehension. The Shah was never one to be trusted for he had no trust in those around him. The behavior of the Shah was cyclical in that in his attempts to avoid being made to look like a fool he often struck out at both his apparent friends as well as his enemies. No one, from those in the highest positions in his court to the begging vagabond had reason to believe the Shah's word. Unable to eat any longer, I turned my attention to the Shah who was studying me with intense curiosity. His eyes held the glimmer of both sardonic delight and ferocity. At the time I believed my emaciated body was the focus of his attention but as the seconds stretched on I began to feel ill at ease under his heavy gaze. I was asked how I was fairing and if I was able to walk without the assistance of others. I answered in the affirmative, opting to keep my answers concise and succinct lest I provoke his anger.

The Shah made little conversation and quickly came to the point of his visit. I was no longer to stay within the palace. His brother, another high ranking official within the Persian army, was in need of a courier. I was to leave within a day to assist the general in protecting the borders from encroaching foreigners.

The Shah's great-grandfather, Fat'h Ali Shah, many years before had been forced into signing treaties transferring great portions of Persian land to the Baltic country to the east. These treaties began a time of turmoil within Persia, with my country conceding ownership of large tracts of land to the English speaking Europeans of Great Britain. The Shah, eager not to lose further land to infidels or to the Babis and Bahais, whom the Shah greatly hated after their botched assassination attempt on his life, was in the process of reinforcing posts on the outskirts of the kingdom.

I was told my former post as daroga had given me invaluable tools needed to discreetly observe others without detection. The job assigned to me was an assistant, to do the general's bidding, and participate in skirmishes when they arose. In essence I had been demoted to a messenger. I was to be no more than a slave but I was told how lucky I was to still be breathing. My new post was non-negotiable and I was to begin my travels promptly the next day.

The job of gathering provisions for the journey had already taken place. All that I would need would be waiting for me with the caravan that would take me to the general's encampment.

The Shah did not foresee my need for anything else and I was not to stray far from my room. A guard was given the task of following me as insurance that I would appear before the general within a few weeks time. My movements as well as all conversations would be reported to the Shah. Despite having my life spared, my duty to my country was only the beginning of my recompense to the Shah for my inattentiveness to the Little Sultana and to Erik. My atonement for my prior sins would depend solely upon the effectiveness of my servitude. The duration of my post was yet to be determined, however I was told to expect to be away no less than three years. I stood in front of the Shah unwavering and never looking away. Knowing his penchant for cruelty I was sure that my fate was destined for much worse.

I bowed to take my leave of his presence when the Shah began to speak once again but with a cold menace underlying his tone.

During the time of the cleansing, my family was taken out of their homes as part of my punishment. In the ensuing chaos, one of my brothers and a niece were killed. My niece, a young, beautiful girl of only ten years had refused to leave her familial home. Crying uncontrollably and unable to overcome her emotions, she ran back towards their front entrance. In her way stood an imperial guard who had no patience for her tantrums. He deftly unsheathed his sword as she approached and ran the blade into her stomach.

My brother, Hadi, was packing the family's belongings into a cart when he heard the shriek that escaped his daughter's lips as she lay dying in a pool of her own blood. He ran into the courtyard and beheld his young daughter gasping for air. I knew how much my brother cherished his family. Without being told I knew he too had perished in trying to protect little Nasrin. I knew this because I knew the type of man he was. Perhaps one could say that the stress of the eviction played into his reasoning or it was the fact that our once proud family name meant less than the name of a slave but I knew my brother. In his anguish, Hadi grasped the dagger attached at his waist and prepared to do battle with the guard. With one swift turn of his body, the guard fended off my brother but in the process sliced off his ear. My brother did not see the guard step behind him as he fell to his knees, clutching at the area where his ear once was. Only gurgles emitted from my brother as the guard's sword penetrated the back of his neck and cleanly made its way through to the front of my brother's throat.

Hadi's wife and remaining children quickly left the home but according to the Shah he knew not the direction in which they were headed. I was at a loss for where my sister and the remainder of her brood might go. My family had numerous friends and acquaintances but after the brutality with which my brother was met I doubted anyone would have wanted to somehow become embroiled.

The Shah related the story in such an uncaring manner that I was unable to at first comprehend what he had told me.

And with that, he left me to contemplate my loss and I fell to the stone floor.


	22. Journal Entry 22

**Journal Entry 22**

No more than a few hours after learning of my family's fate I was traveling in a caravan across the land I had once lovingly called home towards an uncertain future. It was my destiny to spend an indefinite amount of time chained to the whims of a ruthless Shah who had indirectly called for the death of two of my kin.

As I sit and write this journal I have many doubts as to the direction I have led my life. I've strayed so far from the faith that I was taught during my upbringing. I have committed so many moral infractions and I've lost my way. Whereas before the incidents with Erik and the Shah, I was self-confident but after all that had transpired I was full of self-doubt. I suppose that so many years after the events and with so much time to reflect upon my decisions I would have reacted in another way. Certainly had I had the foresight things would have occurred much differently but I did not have that luxury. I made rash, stupid decisions that put too many innocent lives in peril's way and I made these decisions without giving much thought to their consequences. There was no accounting for allowing my family to suffer needlessly as they did. For all the military training of anticipating your opponents' next move, I failed my family, my friends and those who worked under me on so many levels that even now it is hard to live with my conscience so many decades later. I am wracked with unspeakable guilt that I am unable to voice to anyone other than myself. But these often are the thoughts of a person who wishes desperately to move back the hand of time to right their mistakes.

At the time I promised myself that if I were unable to inflict harm or death upon the Shah, then I would show my defiance by doing all that I could to remain alive. If I had the chance to correct my errors I would have said more to Erik to temper his ravings and I, unquestionably, would have plunged a knife deep into the Shah's chest, death be damned. If I had been half the man I am today, I would have done all within my power to change the course of events. I certainly would have not accepted my post as Daroga. If I had only known. There are so many "if's" now. Unfortunately I did not have this prescience and am now carrying the burden of their forfeited lives upon my conscience. It was for this reason that I did my utmost to right blatant wrongs I saw taking place around me and it was exactly why I later helped a young couple fight for their freedom.

It was no secret that the Shah thought I would perish upon the battlefield. As a matter of fact he welcomed the opportunity and put me in direct harm's way so that I might be slaughtered at the hands of others. He had no real use for me, cared not for my life to continue on and yet wanted to waste little more of his time on devising a way to dispose of me.

For nearly ten years I served the General Ismail Sadiq along the frontier borders of Persia. I traveled the length of Persia many times over, helping the army to fortify our boundaries against invaders and those seeking to expand their territories. I did my duty to the best of my ability, gathering intelligence that would assist us in defeating our foes.

My responsibilities were vast in range and increased with the prolonged duration of my stay. My knowledge of various languages made me an asset to many of the operations I took part in. Those of authority praised me for my brashness however I was never awarded for my services with a higher rank. The Shah had ordered it thus so that I might not forget the reasons for my current position. I also was to receive no pay for my work.

All those around me recorded my movements for the Shah. Nothing was done to conceal the fact that every bit of my correspondence was sifted through prior to my receiving it. I assumed the Shah was looking for some sort of trace evidence for the whereabouts of Erik or if the Little Sultana was contacting her former guardian for assistance in escaping. I can say with the utmost honesty that while I was performing my duties for the general I never received any such communication from either of my former charges. And with all sincerity, I cared not one bit as to their fate at that moment in time. My heart was still bleeding from my loss.

I dared not make any companions or associates for fear for their safety. Death was a constant companion I could not rid myself of. It surrounded me on the battlefield and everywhere I traveled. I could not allow myself to grow attachments to persons I might not see the following day. Doing so would do my mental state no good. My predicament was an unhappy occasion and further blows to my mental well-being would have made the whole situation more lugubrious.

It was also around this time that I began to understand Erik's reasoning in not confiding in others or putting trust in those you believed you knew well. I looked at those surrounding me with suspicion, remembering that anyone held the potential to become an enemy. I struggled with the loneliness of refusing to attach myself to someone in friendship and mistrusting all who crossed my path. My existence had become a life of contradictions.

Despite the praise I received, I noted that my commanders seemed to know or had some awareness of what had transpired within the walls of the palace. I had no doubt that the Shah had also spread false rumors. It was made no secret that the commanders believed I would perish soon after I arrived if not during battle then by someone's hand who was looking to court favor with the Shah. Bets were placed as I was given assignment after assignment that put my life in peril.

Our skirmishes with the British were fierce, particularly for the territory of Afghanistan. Other countries took advantage of our predicament and attempted to occupy our seaports while we were at war. By the end of my servitude, my country was less than half of its original size. Battles and the treaties that ended our clashes left Persia with little land to call its own.

For years this continued until, nearing my ten-year anniversary, Persia finally ceded its loss to foreign powers. The Shah signed further treaties that ended territorial wars and the lines of our borders were formally drawn and recognized. The army, battered and war-weary was dissolved. The treaties effectively ended my tenure and I was allowed to relinquish my role as a spy and courier.

A great many things had changed within Persia since my departure. Time spent on the battlefields had somewhat erased the stigma of my prior offenses. Information, as well as gossip that I gathered was enough to bring me to speed on the kingdom's coming and goings. The Shah, in my absence, had made treks to European countries. Enamored with the technology displayed before him, the Shah did all within his power to bring similar inventions to the kingdom. While I took part in military campaigns, he had been away visiting the very countries we were battling against.

While gathering information I received news that the Little Sultana had perished at her own hand. I am unclear as to the exact details of her death, however I learned that she was found in her room a mere four years previous. The entire affair had been kept quiet, hence the reason for my not knowing of her passing until years later. Anyone I talked to was unwilling to go into the particulars of her death. Perhaps the Shah had forbade any talk of his daughter even after her death or perhaps those who knew how she met her end held as much affection for her as she did for them. In either case, she slipped from this life almost unnoticed.

Upon hearing of this news, I was unable to determine what my true feelings were regarding the incident. Remorse? Elation? Peace? The woman had died an early death and though her life was one of decadence, in the end, she passed away alone. And yet her death insured that possibly hundreds of other Persians would live to see long fulfilled lives. I was able to take solace in this fact.

Without attracting too much attention to myself I attempted to find out whether Erik had been caught or seen. No one, it seemed, had heard any news regarding the mysterious vanishing magician. Outwardly, Erik too had passed from the thoughts of my countrymen without much notice. While his works and contraptions lived on and were the cornerstone of the Shah's palace, the inventor's name was hardly uttered. I highly doubted that Erik, with his demeanor, the history of violence he perpetrated upon Persia and his general appearance could ever be forgotten by those he came across. His name may one day be forgotten but the man was apart of my nation's history as much as the Shah himself.

I did all in my power to locate my remaining siblings, but the lack of communication with my family left me clueless as to their location or health. I had to assume the worst until otherwise proven wrong. I decided that I could not function properly with a false sense of hope. I needed to find justice in their sacrifice without looking in every hovel for a whisper of their names.

I had little time to revel in my freedom from serving in the military. Upon my return I was called once again before the Shah.


End file.
